


To Love You

by A_Million_Regrets



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dan, Bottoming from the Top, Heavy Angst, M/M, Oblivious Phil, Smexy times, Smut, Super angsty, Top Phil, probably not a good idea to read this if you're sad, smitten Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Million_Regrets/pseuds/A_Million_Regrets
Summary: Dan is a rent boy, a male prostitute, a cheap whore, another slut for hire . . . He's heard many more derogatory terms used against him in pointless arguments, regardless of whether it be with friends, family or a random stranger in a dingy pub. He's ashamed of who he's become, but he never says it out loud. He hides things, things like his shame, his pain, and the fact that he's helplessly in love with his bestfriend, Phil Lester.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	To Love You

**_Like a force to be reckoned with_ **  
**_A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss_ **  
**_I will love you with every single thing I have_ **

~*~

Dan gazed emptily at the bland ceiling of his spacious bedroom, surrounded by lime green walls and the arms of a man he didn't know. He was lying naked on red satin sheets, curly brown hair splayed across the pillow, arms and limbs sprawled and on full, admirable display. A sheen of sweat coated his pale white skin, making his delicate skin glisten, a sharp contrast against the bright red of the sheets. Quiet little huffs and moans left his pink lips as he arched his back, cheeks flushed red, hair wet with sweat and exertion.

The man looked enthralled, his dark green gaze fixated on Dan's delicate body as if spellbound. He traced Dan's smooth skin with his lips, licking, biting, marking roughly like he owned Dan, like he was an object with a prize; that was exactly what he was.

Wind flowed softly into the room through the open window, ruffling the floral curtains and Dan's hair. Dan panted quietly and closed his eyes in exhaustion, fingers clenching and unclenching around the sheets as the man continued to thrust, his hawk-like, predatory gaze filled with lust, entertainment, _joy. “_ Amazing,” he was telling Dan, out of breath. “You feel so good.”

Dan threw his head back like he should and let out a soft moan, his emotions forgotten, his heart empty, and his mind somewhere not here.

A small, undeniable lump grew in his throat, painful, hard to swallow. The man groaned above him, panting, moving relentlessly. Something broke inside of Dan, something valuable, and he suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to cry, to scream and wail until the ache and loneliness in his heart melted away to somewhere far from here.

The man grunted something Dan didn't care about, murmuring something lewd Dan didn't hear, but he moaned obediently, distantly regretting his choice to accept a client tonight.

It had been building for over a week, his emotions, cluttering together one by one, sneaking into his heart and mind slowly and steadily like a deadly poison. He usually spent several good days being perfectly calm until an abrupt bad day like today crushed him back to square one. It had always been like that.

Every time Dan noticed his emotions transforming into chaos, he would push it back and suppress it, shoving it down his throat, ignoring it, _avoiding it._ It always exploded eventually anyway.

The man slipped away when he was done, leaving Dan on the bed like he was trash, something filthy, someone to be used but not respected.

The lump in his throat grew and grew, and tears pricked the back of his eyelids. His fingers twisted around the soft sheets, his chest heaving with his effort to calm himself down. It felt like there was a large block of wood stuck in his throat, and he bit down on his lip so hard that he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

“You were good,” the man acknowledged with a satisfied grunt, buttoning his shirt. “I might make another appointment soon.”

Dan remained quiet like he should, his body aching and his eyes squeezed shut as he lay there on the bed, feeling worthless and dirty and like a complete mess. He knew the man didn't want him to talk. They never wanted him to talk. No one was interested in his personality or his words or his life. They paid for his body; they paid for a good fuck, nothing more.

“I'll transfer the rest of the money to your account,” he promised, snatching his wedding ring off the nightstand and putting it on.

Dan clenched his jaw and turned away from the sight, his heart heavy and aching. This was what he was. Everyone's embarrassment, guilt and remorse. He was a shameful secret enclosed in the four walls of this bedroom, never good enough for polite company. He was nothing but a stupid little toy that was to be played until it was broken and then thrown away.

With a hollow ache in his chest, Dan quietly stood up when the man had left. His knees trembled and he stumbled, shakily making his way to a chair nearby. He grabbed his pyjamas with shaking fingers and put it on quietly in a state of numbness, his mind empty and his face blank. He took his T-shirt into his hand and stilled, standing there quietly and staring at his T-shirt.

There was a mind-numbing silence all around, pressing against his ears, loud and painful. A huge wave of emptiness and shame hit him at once, and his fingers tightened around his T-shirt, trembling, lips quivering. How many clients did he meet today? Seven? Eight? He couldn't remember.

His heart sank and he stood there quietly, fingers tightening. It was too much. The room, the silence, the pain in his limbs. It was all pointless. His life, his hope, everything was pointless and stupid and nothing fucking mattered. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get rid of his emotions, and a thousand negative, _bad_ , thoughts invaded his head.

Every day was the exact same. Each day he woke up cold and unfeeling to another pointless day, another obstacle he needed to overcome. Nothing was ever enough, and he hoped and hoped, but nothing ever changed. Nothing would _ever_ change. He was always going to be worthless and alone and without a purpose. He was tired of waiting and hoping and wanting someone to love him, but he was a stupid whore and nothing more. No one would ever love him so why did he even try anymore?

Dan swallowed the lump in his throat and melted to the floor, pressing the T-shirt to his face. A broken sob left his lips and silent tears slipped down his cheeks. He curled into a ball on the floor, his face red as he sniffed. He felt like a complete idiot.

It really was a bad day today.

~*~

  
Dan woke up with a start, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, body freezing cold on the floor. His T-shirt was still clutched tightly in his hand, wet and soaked with his tears. Taking a deep breath, he looked around and realized that he had fallen asleep on the floor.

He sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. The sound of three consecutive knocks reached his ears, and he immediately identified what had startled him awake. Almost instantly, he leapt to his feet and wore his T-shirt, carding his fingers through his hair and making it look at least presentable. His heart was beating in anticipation. He knew who was at the door without having to ask. Not many people came to visit him this late into the night, especially when he had no appointments.

Dan bit his lip and wiped the tear tracks from his red cheeks, smoothing the wrinkles on his T-shirt quickly with trembling hands. “Coming!” he shouted when knocks became loud, annoyed bangs on the door. He padded over to the mirror and combed his hair with his fingers, licking his dry lips.

As soon as he saw his swollen, disgruntled face in the mirror, he stilled like a dead man, staring at his own eager reflection. The desperation and hope on his face was unmistakable, and a small lump blocked his throat immediately. His fingers tightened in his hair, and his eyes filled with tears. “What the fuck am I doing?” he whispered brokenly, closing his eyes against the rush of emotions.

Dan felt ashamed of himself, ashamed and helpless. He was acting like a pathetic idiot. Even after having a complete breakdown, he was still full of hope and . . . and still helplessly in love.

“You're an idiot,” he mumbled to himself. “You're a fucking idiot.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat and wiping his face, Dan hurried out of the bedroom and to the front door, opening it slowly.

Phil was stood there with a soppy, grinning face and Dan's heart pounded. “Heeyyyy,” he slurred, wobbling on his feet.

Dan frowned in confusion. “Are you drunk?”

Phil hiccupped and stumbled forward, grabbing the door to steady himself. His eyes were unfocused and droopy, his face covered in sweat. He smelled very strongly of whiskey, and Dan crinkled his nose. “Why are you drunk?” he inquired cautiously.

“Hmm?” Phil blinked and turned to the wall near him. “Oh, hey, Dan. When–” Hiccup. “–did you get here?” he drawled. Blinking repeatedly, he patted the wall in confusion. “You–you don't look like Dan.”

Dan rolled his eyes, his heart warm and a fond smile on his face. “Phil, that's a wall,” he said softly, placing a hand on Phil's shoulder and guiding him inside.

Phil turned to him and blinked again as Dan closed the door. “Oh, there you are!” He threw his arms around Dan, hugging him tightly. “My Dan. I looovvvee youuuuuu.”

Dan bit his lip, closing his eyes against the overwhelming rush of feelings inside him. He had an urge to pretend it was real, but he knew that would only hurt him even more. Finding the courage deep inside him, he pushed Phil slightly and slid his arm around Phil, supporting him. “You're really drunk, aren't you?” Dan whispered quietly as Phil's eyes drooped and his head lolled sideways. “Come on, I'll let you sleep here tonight.”

Phil chuckled drowsily, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, lips brushing against his earlobe. “And do what?”

Dan shivered, his heart pounding, palms sweating. He swallowed harshly and slowly led Phil towards the spare bedroom. “N-nothing. Just sleep.”

“Mm,” Phil gave him a lopsided smirk, and Dan's heart skipped a beat. “Boring.”

Dan stayed silent, kicking the door open and guiding Phil to the bed. Phil clung to his T-shirt, and he pried Phil's hands away. Phil laughed and dropped to the bed, closing his eyes.

Dan stared at him, sighing deeply. Phil chuckled and muttered something incomprehensible. Dan huffed at him, bending and taking off his shoes. “Did something happen?” he asked quietly. “You never get this drunk.”

Phil's laughs stopped abruptly, and he stilled, a sombre silence filling the room. Dan bit his lip rigidly but quietly continued to remove Phil's socks.

“I broke up with my girlfriend,” Phil whispered in a broken voice, eyes open and wide, staring at the ceiling blankly.

Dan's hand stilled above Phil's feet, his eyes avoiding Phil's face. “You broke up with Maisie?”

Phil sighed and he suddenly looked sober. “Nah, I broke up with Maisie two months ago.”

“Oh, right,” Dan murmured with a blink. “Was it Rosie then? Sorry, they all have similar names.”

“I broke up with Rosie two weeks ago, Dan,” Phil muttered bitterly.

Dan stood up quietly and placed his shoes away in a corner. “Then who is it this time?” he asked silently, controlling his feelings and sitting next to Phil on the bed. “Did you have a new girlfriend?”

Phil was quiet for a long time, a pained expression on his face. Dan's heart ached and he wanted to reach out and touch him, card his fingers through Phil's black hair. He swallowed and turned away instantly, awaiting Phil's answer.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Hannah. She dumped me last night.”

“Okay,” Dan said quietly, not knowing what else to say. He sat still, staring at the wall silently.

Phil was gazing quietly at the ceiling, his lips pursed into a thin line. Dan couldn't help but ask, “Was she pretty?” He knew the answer would hurt him, but that was all he did these days. Hurt himself over and over again.

Phil didn't look at him. “She was,” he muttered quietly. Dan swallowed and his heart sank. Why did he have to ask?

Phil turned to him suddenly, eyes a vivid blue. “But not as pretty as you,” he whispered quietly, his voice still loud in the silence and darkness of the room.

Dan stared at him for a full minute and turned away abruptly. “You're drunk,” he murmured.

Phil didn't answer, but he turned back to the ceiling. There was silence for a while until he spoke up again. “Why doesn't anyone love me?” he asked quietly, sounding choked. “Why can't I just find someone–someone like yo–“ He stopped abruptly. “Nevermind. You're right. I'm drunk.” He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated sigh.

Dan's heart sank, his chest burning with the need to announce that _he_ did. He loved Phil. He loved Phil more than anyone in the world. He bit his lip roughly and took a steady breath, calming himself. His fingers itched to touch, and he placed a hand above Phil's, gazing down at him and squeezing his hand in a reassuring way. “It's okay,” he whispered. “You'll find s-someone who loves you someday.”

Phil stared at him, eyes a brilliant, sparkling blue of sapphires, deep and filled with emotions in the darkness of the room. Dan gazed back quietly, and the moment seemed to last forever.

Phil swallowed and looked away, lips sealed shut. There was an awkward tension in the air, a rigid silence that seemed impossible to break. Dan pulled his hand away, remaining quiet.

“How much do they pay you?” Phil asked after what felt like hours.

Dan blinked, turning to look at Phil. Phil's gaze was intense and solemn. “Who?”

“Your clients,” he murmured reluctantly.

Dan's chest hurt and he turned away, “Why do you want to know?”

Phil sat up quietly, placing a hand on Dan's thigh, his face inches away. “Just tell me.”

Dan's breath stuttered in his chest as he said in confusion, “About £100 per hour.”

His eyes locked with Phil's deep icy-blue gaze, his heart hammering in his chest. Phil's hands inched higher on his thigh, and Dan's breath hitched. What was Phil doing? “How about I–” He lifted his other hand, trailing it down Dan's face and neck with feather-light fingertips. Dan's eyes fluttered close, butterflies filling his stomach. “How about I pay you and–”

Dan's eyes flew open, wide and shocked and . . . and humiliated. Phil pulled his hands away instantly, moving away abruptly as if he were shocked by his own drunken behaviour. “Fuck,” Phil croaked, eyes wide. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was–I shouldn't have–I'm sorry. Fuck.” He carded his fingers through his hair and bit his lip in remorse. “I'm sorry, Dan.”

Dan's eyes pricked with tears and his heart dropped. He got up quickly and hurried to the door, his whole body screaming. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly, but he would never do it in front of Phil. He would never humiliate himself like that. “Go to sleep. You're drunk,” he managed to choke out before leaving the room and slamming the door shut.

Dan breathed heavily and rested his head back against the closed door, swallowing the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes, feeling insulted by Phil's words. _Ashamed_.

Of course. He should've known. Of course, Phil would never ask him on a date or–or to be his boyfriend . . . Dan wasn't good enough for that. He would never be good enough for Phil.

Dan swallowed his tears and for the first time, he felt truly hopeless.

~*~

Dan woke up early the next day and went straight to the kitchen, trying his absolute best to ignore the previous night's events by preparing breakfast for Phil. He had barely slept all night, thinking and rethinking the scene over and over in his head. He felt disgusted with himself, ashamed, but he couldn't bring himself to be angry at Phil. Phil was drunk, and he probably wouldn't even remember what he had said.

Dan shoved his emotions to the back of his head and hoped that Phil wouldn't stop being his friend over this. He didn't think he would be able to tolerate that. No matter what Phil said or did, he couldn't help but love Phil deeply and stupidly.

When Phil didn't wake up for a long time and the coffee Dan had made for him turned ice-cold, he walked out of the kitchen to find Phil. Concern spreading through his chest, Dan slowly opened the door and slipped inside.

Phil was sleeping soundly, black hair splayed across the white sheets. He was sprawled across the bed with nothing but boxers on, and Dan smiled at the sight, his heart filling with warmth and affection. He quietly shuffled over to him, sitting down on the bed. Phil's chest rose and fell regularly, his black hair falling over his eyes. Dan's heart thudded as he gazed quietly, biting his lip in pain. He was hit with a deep sense of longing and sorrow, his warm smile dimming a little bit. Unable to control his emotions, he reached forward and brushed Phil's hair back, fingers carding through his hair.

Dan sighed quietly, and in that silent moment, he pretended it was real and felt his heartache more and more with each second.

None of this was real.

It would never be.

Dan swallowed and began to pull his hand away, only to be stopped by Phil's hand on his wrist, his hold tight.

Dan blinked, startled. Phil slowly opened his blue eyes, gazing at him with a soft look on his face. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Dan gulped in embarrassment. “I-I was just–”

Phil's callous fingers tightened around his thin wrist, and Dan's eyes widened. Dan merely got a split second to think before Phil grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him down abruptly, connecting their lips in a rough, desperate kiss.

Dan was too startled to move, his heart halting in his chest like a dead thing. Phil didn't let go, instead, he pressed harder and in a daze, Dan kissed back quietly, unable to comprehend what was happening.

His heart leapt with joy, and his lips tingled, his whole body trembling with the realisation that _Phil_ had kissed him. Phil had kissed _him_. Dan's mind was blurry and spinning, his breaths coming out in excited pants. Phil's lips were desperate and eager, moving earnestly, passionately, his hands coming up to cup Dan's cheeks.

Phil pulled back with wide eyes and blurted, “I want you.” He was panting, his eyes huge, unsure and unfocused. “I've always wanted you.”

Dan's heart flipped and came thudding back against his chest, his hands moving on its own. Phil pulled him up and Dan joined their lips together again, kissing him like it was the last kiss of his life. Phil's hands were moving, exploring, roaming all over his body, trailing down his face and arms and chest, inching under his T-shirt and travelling upwards. Dan's breath hitched, and his mind was dizzy and lightheaded as he pulled back for air.

Was this real? Or a dream?

Phil took that opportunity and flipped them over with one swift movement, kissing down Dan's jaw, peppering his neck and shoulder with little kisses. Dan's eyes fluttered shut, and he wasn't yet sure if it was a dream or reality. He wondered if it was something that he had created in his mind, something like an unfulfilled fantasy, but it looked so real, it felt so real and tangible. He was just too scared to hope, too scared to ask.

Phil kissed Dan like he was someone valuable, someone precious, someone he loved, and Dan's heart warmed and filled and ached with love. His hands were restless, touching Phil everywhere, his back, his muscles, his chest. He couldn't stop. Phil panted above him, rutting against him, pulling his shirt. “Off,” he choked out. “Off. I want to touch you.”

Dan removed his shirt and threw it to the floor, hands already working on his pyjamas. His fingers trembled violently and he was panicking, his mind dizzy. Phil noticed and placed a warm hand on his thigh. “Easy, Dan,” he murmured, breathing heavily.

Dan swallowed and nodded, kicking his pyjamas away and shoving it to the floor.

“Fuck,” Phil panted, staring at him. “You're gorgeous.”

Phil kissed him, plunging his tongue into Dan's mouth, licking, sucking, moving to trail his lips down his chest. Dan arched his torso and moaned, his cock hard and aching. He was trembling violently, and he saw Phil's shaking hands move towards his cock. His breath hitched when Phil's fingers wrapped around his erection, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, god.”

Phil stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, panting and out of breath. He didn't move, and Dan panted quietly, opening the bedside drawer with one hand and taking out lube and condoms. Phil snatched it from his hands, and Dan swallowed in a daze, turning around and standing on his knees.

He should've been used to it by now. He did this often with his clients, but Phil's touch was electric, lighting fire to his skin with feather-light touches, and Dan was soon moaning, his mind turning into mush as Phil worked his fingers, opening him up in a mere few minutes.

“Please,” Dan panted, fingers clenching and unclenching around the sheets. “Please, Phil. It's enough.”

Phil pulled away, throwing his boxers to a corner and pulling on the condom, lubing up his cock. Without wasting more time, he lined it with Dan's hole, pushing in slowly. Dan breathed roughly and choked out, “Fuck. Oh god, Phil.”

“I'm not hurting you, am I?” Phil asked in concern, breathing heavily.

Dan shook his head. “No, just–please move.”

Phil pulled back and pushed back in, slowly setting a steady pace with smooth, long thrusts. Dan panted heavily, and grunts, moans and huffs filled the room.

Dan was in a strange ecstasy where he didn't know if it was real or his imagination. His heart was pounding, his cock leaking with precome, and Phil was the cause of that. Phil was near him. Phil _wanted_ him, and he couldn't believe it. He wanted to cry and laugh and scream all at once.

“Dan,” Phil was murmuring into his ear, his movements hurried. “My Dan. Mine.”

Dan's chest burst with joy, and he arched his back, moaning loudly. His back was covered in a sheen of sweat, his skin glistening with physical exertion. Phil's lips moved down the knots of his spine, kissing, touching, marking the blades of his back. “You're beautiful,” he murmured and Dan moaned loudly, face pressed against the bed, pleasure coursing through his body. “You're so beautiful.”

Dan shuddered and came with a soft moan, panting heavily, his heart full of happiness and his mind finally at peace. Hope was starting to creep back into his body and he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

“Fucking hell,” Phil groaned, coming with a loud grunt. He thrust a few more times and pulled away, heaving and throwing the condom into a bin. He dropped like a dead weight on Dan's back.

“Ow,” Dan breathed, chest heaving.

Minutes passed in heavy silence, quiet pants and irregular breathing the only sound in the room. Phil's fingers silently moved through Dan's hair, lips peppering little kisses on his back. Dan's eyes were closed, but his lips were quirked up in a happy, content smile.

“I should go,” Phil murmured quietly after a while, pulling away.

Dan blinked in confusion, turning around and sitting up. He watched Phil putting on his boxers and murmured, “Stay for a while. I, uh, I made breakfast. You should–”

“No, it's fine,” Phil shrugged, not meeting his eyes. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and patted his pockets. “I have work today.”

Dan's smile slightly faltered, but he gathered his courage and tried again. “It's still early. You could–”

“Here,” Phil said briskly, extending his hand and shoving money in front of his face. “You said £100 per hour, right?”

It took a few, disorienting seconds for Dan to realize that Phil was giving him money . . . _Money._ Money for the time they spent together. Just now.

Dan stared at Phil's hand and back up at Phil's disinterested face, his heart completely shattering into a thousand little pieces. His throat closed up, words and feelings tangling together in his chest and suffocating him. He tried to breathe, but there was no air in the room. He swallowed and swallowed but his throat was on fire, choked up with humiliation and shame and embarrassment. For several confused moments, he didn't know what to do, what to say. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh or scream. He just didn't _know._ He just stared at the money he didn't want with tears in his eyes.

“Take it,” Phil whispered, “You don't have to give me special treatment just because I'm your friend.”

“Get out,” Dan murmured in a hoarse, choking voice, his whole body numb and unfeeling, still as a stone.

Phil blinked in shock, stepping back in confusion. “What? Why–”

“Get out,” Dan sniffed a bit more loudly, unable to control his emotions. He wiped his eyes but more tears filled his eyes. Phil stared at him with wide eyes, and Dan felt ashamed of himself; he felt like a pathetic fool.

“I didn't mean to–” Phil began cautiously.

“GET. OUT!” Dan shouted loudly, bolting to his feet and panting heavily. Phil didn't move, didn't speak, and Dan swallowed, his heart breaking more and more with every second. “Leave! Leave and don't come back. I don't want to see your face ever again!” he screamed, shoving Phil back in anger.

He was an idiot.

He was such an idiot.

Phil stumbled back against the wall, still staring at Dan with those wide eyes. “What did I do? Why are you–”

“GET OUT!” Dan screamed, sniffing loudly as he opened the door and hurried to his room, his mind yelling at him to get away from Phil. He slammed his door shut, locking it and falling to his bed with a broken sob. Something exploded inside him and he wailed into his pillow, crying loudly, not caring if Phil heard him or not. He was done with it. He was done with it all. He was tired of hoping and trying. He was tired of loving. He was tired of everything and he just wanted it all to end. He just wanted to be _happy._

He was such a fucking idiot.

~*~

  
Dan sniffed and got up from the bed, his eyes swollen and hurting, his throat and lips dry and parched from screaming and crying for hours. The room was dark, and although he hadn't checked the time, he knew it was late in the evening. He rubbed his eyes and quietly made his way to the door. He opened it silently, his movements tired and lethargic. He thought he didn't have any more tears left to cry, but as soon as he saw the spare bedroom, his eyes started tearing up again.

Dan bit his lip and wiped his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain in his chest and the humiliation burning through his stomach.

Taking quiet, tired steps, he managed to reach the living room, shuffling towards his kitchen for a cup of water. His stomach rumbled, but he didn't think he had the energy to make dinner.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks, his heart plummeting to the floor. He stared with empty eyes at the money left on the dining table, anger and shame coiling in his stomach. He closed his eyes against the rush of tears and melted to the floor, sitting there quietly and staring at the floor. A hollow, numb feeling spread over his body, clouding his mind. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He didn't have the energy to even move.

Dan pulled his knees to his chest, his hands shaking as he gazed at nothing in particular with blank, emotionless eyes. As he sat there in absolute silence in his small, cluttered kitchen, he finally realized how truly alone he was. He had no one to call or text and ask for advice. There was no one who cared about him, no one who loved him. He was slowly wasting away without anyone noticing him at all.

~*~

  
At first, he had started doing it for money. He was broke and helpless, and it seemed like the only option at the time. He continued the work because he was being paid well. He was earning more in a day than an average man with a stable job earned in a month. He didn't realize how much it had been affecting his relationship with his friends, his family, _Phil_ , until it was too late.

Phil began dating every girl he saw a year or two ago, avoiding Dan as much as he could. Dan began to hate his work, continuing only because he had nothing else to do. Phil would visit every once in a while, droning on about the new girl he had met. Dan would listen quietly, faking a smile at all the right places. But still, Dan was happy to be his friend. He was content with being able to see Phil every few days or weeks or months even. He wasn't greedy. He was patient and he waited, hoping . . .

Dan snapped out of his thoughts and wiped the tears off his face, quietly waiting for his client in the living room. He adjusted his hair with benumbed fingers and rubbed his cheeks, hoping he looked decent enough for the old man he was supposed to meet today.

There were three knocks at the door, and Dan stood up without thinking. This particular client was a regular, a rich old guy who was usually generous with his money. Dan knew what he liked and disliked, and in his eagerness to forget Phil, he had already prepared himself. He needed someone to fuck him and make him forget.

Dan untied the bathrobe he was wearing and let it hang loosely from his shoulders, leaving his nakedness on display. He stepped towards the door gracefully and put on a perfect, seductive smile as he opened the door, hoping to see the delighted face of the old man.

Dan's breath hitched in his throat when he saw Phil on his doorstep instead. As soon as he saw Dan, his mouth opened in a daze and he looked dumbstruck and shocked, his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. He stared at Dan unabashedly, gaze wandering across his pale white skin and ripe thighs and the swell of his cock. Drops of water dripped down Dan's wet hair and trailed down his body, Phil's eyes followed it earnestly.

“What–” Dan's heart pounded, but he didn't move. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I just–” Phil swallowed, almost panting. Dan's cheeks turned bright red, and his cock hardened as he noticed the raw desire in Phil's crystal blue eyes.

Dan swallowed and his heart pounded, his palm sweating profusely. They stared at each other for a long, charged moment and suddenly, he couldn't remember the reason behind his anger or his sadness. He forgot everything; he forgot the heartbreak and he forgot Phil's words. He forgot the money left on the dining table.

Phil stepped in as if in a trance and locked the door behind him. Dan didn't know or see who initiated it, but all of a sudden, they were kissing and touching each other like they had been waiting to do it for years.

It was hurried and desperate and quick and probably the sloppiest kiss Dan had ever received, but in the heat of the moment, it felt like the very best of his entire life.

Dan let out a desperate noise from his throat and arched his neck, shaky fingers working open the buttons on Phil's shirt. Phil kissed and licked down his neck, making Dan pant helplessly.

Clothes came off one by one in a matter of minutes, and Dan pulled him to the sofa in the living room, pushing him back. Phil gazed at him hungrily, laying back on the sofa, breathing irregular and panting.

Dan swung one leg over him and straddled his thighs, coiling his fingers around Phil's erection. Phil let out a strangled moan and heaved, grabbing Dan's neck and pulling him down to kiss his lips desperately. Dan's hands moved along the shaft of Phil's cock, pace steady and slow, coaxing him into full hardness. Phil grunted into his mouth and sucked just below his jaw, biting down with his teeth. “Mine,” he panted out in an angry voice. “Mine.”

Dan's heart thudded furiously and he felt like he was forgetting something important, doing something he shouldn't, but Phil's bright blue gaze was irresistible, his lust-filled eyes impossible to ignore. Dan let go of Phil's cock and raised his upper body, reaching back to adjust Phil's cock against his slick hole. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dan sank down on Phil's cock, a choked noise escaping his pink lips. Phil let out a pleasure-filled groan in return and Dan moved slowly, setting a steady pace.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil panted, hands reaching out, roaming all across the pale stretch of skin on Dan's torso. “Beautiful. You're so beautiful.”

There was some kind of emotion in Phil's voice, something like pain, some deep longing, and Dan's eyes fluttered, his heart squeezing painfully. He fucked himself on Phil's cock repeatedly, complying to Phil's requests to go faster, harder.

Dan arched his torso and moaned, taking his cock into his hands and jerking himself off as he bounced on Phil's cock. It didn't take long for him to come undone, and he let out a shuddering breath, coming into his hands with a soft moan of Phil's name.

He didn't protest when Phil grabbed him and flipped them around, pushing his face into the sofa and pounding into him, seeking his own release and pleasure. Dan panted heavily as Phil pulled out and came with a satisfied groan all over his back, thrusting a few more times to ride out his orgasm.

~*~

  
“You were already ready,” Phil mumbled quietly after they had cleaned up the mess in the living room. He was sat on the other end of the sofa, fully clothed and rigid in his posture. The tension in the air was almost palpable, and Dan's eyes were fixated on the floor, avoiding Phil's face.

Dan fumbled with his hands in silence. “I was waiting,” he whispered in shame, lowering his eyes.

“For a client?” Phil inquired in a slightly annoyed voice.

“Yes,” Dan replied quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't look at Phil, but he could see Phil staring at him from the corner of his eyes. “You should go.”

“Does it feel good?” Phil continued, ignoring him.

Dan blinked. “I'm sorry?”

“Does it feel good when they fuck you, Dan?” he asked, sounding bitter. Slowly, Dan lifted his gaze and met Phil's angry eyes. His jaw was clenched, and he stared at Dan with a disgusted look on his face. “Is that why you do it? Because you like it so much? How many clients do you get in a day? Ten? Fifteen? I'm just another customer, right?”

Phil sounded derisive, and Dan's chest squeezed in pain, his stomach dropping to his feet. “You have no right–” His voice cracked, and he sounded emotional and pathetic to his own ears. “You have no right to talk to me like this.”

Phil stared at him solemnly, staying quiet. Dan stood up abruptly, his hands shaking violently, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. “I need you to leave,” he told Phil shakily.

“Oh, right. You're waiting for your client,” Phil mocked, patting his pockets. “But don't worry. I won't leave without paying.”

Dan's heart sank and he stared at the floor silently, trembling hands tightening into fists. He wanted to cry again. The lump in his throat was unbearable. Words he wanted to say, words he had always wanted to say lay tangled up in knots behind his tongue. It seemed meaningless now, something without any real value or worth.

Phil pulled a few, worthless notes out of his pocket and waved it in front of Dan's face. Shame curled and coiled in his stomach as he stared at it. He felt worthless; he felt filthy. He felt useless and disgusting and like someone who didn't deserve an ounce of respect. He felt like scum under Phil's shoes.

“Why?” Dan choked out quietly.

“What?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Dan murmured in a broken voice.

Phil blinked and his eyes widened slightly, his hand lowering as he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Why would you do this to me?” Dan stammered out, swallowing his tears. “I have done nothing but care for you and lo–”

Dan cut himself off and turned away abruptly so that Phil wouldn't see the utterly broken look on his face, wouldn't see that Dan was falling apart. There was silence for several seconds, and Dan could feel Phil's stare drilling into the back of his head. “L-leave it on the table and go,” Dan murmured quietly, slowly crumbling into pieces inside.

Phil didn't say anything for a few minutes. “Right. Yeah,” he muttered finally in rage. “Forgot you were a whore for a second there.”

Dan's eyes widened, his heart crashing to the floor in a thousand pieces. His chest squeezed and his lips quivered. He clenched his hands into tight fists, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from crying. He had never felt this hopeless, this humiliated. His throat was tight, so tight and aching, and aching so badly that he wanted to scratch and claw at it. He stood there, still and silent until he heard Phil walking away and slamming the door shut.

His shoulders shook as the tears freely flowed down his cheeks, desperate sobs leaving his lips. He melted to the floor and curled into a ball, wailing loudly, unable to find the energy to care anymore. He was so hurt, so hurt that he could feel his heart choking in his chest as he cried.

At that moment, everything felt pointless, and he wondered if he was going to die. Even death seemed better than the pain he was feeling in his chest. He was still aching for Phil, and he felt more alone than ever before.

~*~

A whole month passed before Phil appeared on his doorstep again, looking remorseful and guilty. Dan had stopped meeting with his clients by then, and he had stopped crying. He spent most of his days staring at the ceiling, or at the walls, or just sleeping in the spare bedroom. He didn't have any tears left to cry, and he lived in a constant state of numbness. He would check his phone every few hours throughout the day, hoping, praying, for a text or call from Phil. It never came.

As soon as Dan saw Phil on his doorstep, his heart sank and his fingers tightened around the knob, ready to slam it shut in his face. He breathed heavily and began to do just that, but Phil placed his foot between the door and the wall, blocking it. 

“Please,” Phil whispered, “I want to talk.”

Dan's throat closed up and his hands trembled, but he opened the door quietly, not saying a single word. He didn't think there were any words left to say at this point.

They sat down on the sofa, and Dan avoided Phil's eyes, staying quiet until Phil spoke up, sounding awkward. “How have you been?” he asked silently. 

Dan didn't know what to say. His throat was tight, and he wanted to tell Phil that he missed him; he missed Phil's voice. He missed Phil so much that he wanted to fall into Phil's arms and hug him and never let go. Dan wanted to say how much he loved him, tell him he could never live without Phil. He wanted Phil. He wanted him so much. He needed– “Fine.”

Phil swallowed, biting his lip. “Good.”

There was a sombre, seemingly endless silence for a long time. Both of them remained quiet, sitting rigidly in tense quietude. After a while, with shaking fingers, Dan unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Is this what you want?” he murmured softly.

Phil's eyes widened, and he stared at Dan in shock, blinking repeatedly, looking ashamed. “No, I–” Phil stared at him sadly, and Dan's heart broke. “I just . . .”

Dan had an uncontrollable urge to cry. He always felt like crying in Phil's presence, but he stayed still and quiet, controlling himself. Phil didn't say anything for several, long minutes, but he stood up quietly and sat beside Dan. Dan flinched, but he lifted his hands and continued to undo the buttons on his shirt, staring at the floor with tear-filled eyes. 

Phil wrapped his hand around Dan's and stopped his movements gently. He swallowed and looked at Phil questioningly, noticing Phil's slightly teary eyes. 

Instead of saying anything, he pulled Dan into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around Dan. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, “I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry.”

Phil's arms squeezed him. “Don't cry,” he whispered, sounding choked and close to tears, “I'm so sorry, Dan.”

Dan didn't realize he had been crying until he felt the tears on his cheeks. With a quiet sniff, he lifted his hands and held on tightly to Phil's shirt, twisting his fingers in it and sniffing into his shoulder. “I hate you. I hate you, Phil,” he sniffled quietly.

“I know. I'm sorry,” Phil murmured softly.

“Why would you do that to me?” he sobbed, and suddenly he didn't care. He didn't care what Phil thought of him. He didn't care what happened to their friendship. He just wanted to let it out. He wanted to tell Phil everything. He wanted to tell Phil that he loved him . . . but he just wasn't brave enough. He was a coward. He had always been a fucking coward.

“I'm sorry, I–” Phil swallowed, arms tightening around him. “I never meant to call you that word. I never wanted to hurt you. I would never–”

“You hurt me,” Dan sniffed.

“I love you.”

Dan stopped abruptly, his teary eyes widening in disbelief. His throat hurt and his chest squeezed. He could do nothing but stay still and hope he had heard it right.

“I love you,” Phil repeated in a small, strangled voice. “I love you so much. I always have and it just–I'm sorry. I know you like what you do. I know. I never wanted to shame you for that. It's just–” His voice cracked and he sounded close to tears. Dan didn't move. He just sat there stunned because it couldn't be true. Phil could never love him. How could he love Dan? Why would he? There was no reason to love Dan. He was no one . . . “I wanted you. I wanted to have you at least once and I thought it would be enough but it's not.”

Dan felt dizzy with emotions, his brain unwilling to comprehend what he was hearing. Phil . . . Phil loved him? “I've tried, okay? I've tried to stop but I can't. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop loving you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did. I just–” He breathed heavily. “I just wanted you.”

Dan blinked repeatedly, terrified to hope. He swallowed the emotions that rose from his throat and he wanted to say something, anything, but his throat was too tight.

“You . . . you love me?” Dan choked out helplessly.

“Yes,” Phil murmured in a shameful voice. “I have for a long time. For years.”

Dan breathed heavily, his head spinning. “But y-you paid me for–”

“I'm sorry, I–” Phil closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted you.”

Dan didn't know how to express what he was feeling. He didn't know if he even had the words to say what he wanted to say. He tried to find meaningful words and join them into sentences, but he couldn't do it.

“I never wanted to ruin our friendship.” Phil sounded frustrated with himself. “I just can't hide it anymore. I don't–”

Dan pulled back and connected their lips, kissing Phil softly. Phil's eyes widened in surprise but he kissed him back without protests.

“I love you,” Dan whispered in a quiet, hoarse voice, wrapping his arms tightly around Phil's waist, finally saying the words he had always been too afraid to say. “I love you. I love you.” Phil squeezed him tightly against his chest, and Dan buried his face in Phil's shoulder. “I love you.”

Phil placed a kiss on his head and Dan's chest filled with warmth. There were still many words left to say, several questions that needed to be answered, but Dan's heart slowly opened, and he allowed himself to hope again.

_**~*~** _

_**I just want to love you, to love you, to love you, and** _  
_**I just want to learn how to somehow be loved myself** _ _**.** _


End file.
